The Rat Cultivator

Little Yellow stared at the fragrant fruit, his eyes unblinking and practically glued to the prize. A string of drool hung from his jaw, and his nose twitched violently as he inhaled the exotic aroma. He looked ready to lick the air just to get a taste.

Wu Yuan watched the gluttonous display with a smirk. Ignoring the desperate, pleading look in the weasel’s eyes, he plucked a single grain of the fruit and popped it into his own mouth.

Despite its resemblance to a viper’s fang, the fruit wasn’t sharp. It snapped with a satisfying crunch, releasing a flood of icy, refreshing nectar.

First came a rush of sugary sweetness, immediately grounded by a subtle, medicinal bitterness—a perfect balance that prevented it from being cloying. Then, the energy hit. A wave of pure Spiritual Qi exploded in his stomach, diffusing through his limbs. His mind cleared instantly, and his blood surged with a vibrant, thrumming vitality. It was like drinking liquid strength.

“We’ll call this the Snake Spirit Fruit,” Wu Yuan announced.

He glanced down. Little Yellow was trembling, looking as if he were about to cry tears of pure envy. Wu Yuan picked another fruit and dangled it tauntingly in front of the weasel’s nose.

“If you eat this,” Wu Yuan said, his voice carrying the weight of a transaction, “you are responsible for replanting every single seed. We need a full harvest. Do we have a deal?”

He pointed to the patch of mutated spirit plants.

Little Yellow didn’t even look at the plants. His gaze was locked on the fruit, and his head bobbed up and down so fast he looked like a chicken pecking at rice.

Hook, line, and sinker, Wu Yuan thought, hiding a smile. Labor secured.

He tossed the fruit. Little Yellow caught it mid-air and swallowed it whole, his face melting into an expression of sheer, transcendent bliss. Wu Yuan chuckled, shaking his head, and turned his attention back to business.

Wu Yuan moved to inspect the Spirit Copper mine. The tunnels were spiderwebbed with cracks, and debris littered the floor, but the main vein remained intact.

“Only the access tunnels collapsed,” he noted with relief. “We can clear this out in a day. The ore itself wasn’t exposed to the outside world.”

“The losses are minimal, and the gains… substantial.”

Wu Yuan’s mind raced as he calculated his assets. “As expected of a Cyan-grade intelligence report. If I survive this calamity, every piece of intel will be a stepping stone for rapid expansion.”

Later, Wu Yuan lounged on a stone platform at the highest point of the cave, surveying his domain. It was his favorite spot, offering a commanding view of the entire cavern.

He shifted, realizing just how comfortable the stone was. The surface was polished smooth, the curves perfectly ergonomic for his rodent physiology. It felt less like a rock and more like a bespoke throne.

“This craftsmanship is excellent,” Wu Yuan remarked, tapping the smooth stone. “Which talent in the swarm made this?”

Little Yellow, still savoring the aftertaste of the Snake Spirit Fruit, looked up. “The new guys. The River Beavers. They designed the new tunnel supports, too.”

Wu Yuan blinked. He vaguely recalled a group of aquatic mammals mixed in with the rodent horde he had summoned earlier—about a dozen of them, dragging their families along.

“River Beavers?” Wu Yuan sat up, intrigued. “Bring them here. I want the cave renovated, anyway.”

Moments later, a line of mud-caked creatures waddled into view. They arranged themselves by size, from the largest elder to a palm-sized pup.

Wu Yuan looked at the smallest beaver, a tiny ball of fluff that looked like it would be crushed if it tried to lift a pebble. What can these little guys even do?

An elderly beaver with a frosted white muzzle stepped forward. He prostrated himself on the damp stone floor, his voice trembling with reverence.

“Honorable Mouse King. The Bibo River Beaver Clan seeks your protection.”

Wu Yuan raised a brow. Well-spoken. A cultured beaver.

His expression remained impassive. “Why?”

The Elder Beaver hesitated, unnerved by the King’s unreadable gaze. He quickly added, “I sensed your benevolence, Great King. You are the strongest entity on Little Green Mountain.”

Wu Yuan didn’t react. Flattery was cheap.

The Elder’s anxiety spiked. This isn’t some country bumpkin King I can fool with sweet words.

“We possess ancient legacies!” the Elder blurted out. “We wish to offer our skills to the Great King!”

“Legacies?” Wu Yuan’s interest piqued. “If you have inherited knowledge, you could survive anywhere. Why come to me?”

The Elder Beaver exhaled, sensing an opening. “We… are refugees from the East Sea. We have a dispute with the East Sea Dragon Palace.”

He peeked up, gauging Wu Yuan’s reaction. Seeing no fear—or indeed, any reaction at all—he continued, bolder now.

“We lived near human settlements in the East Sea. We brought many books on Cultivation with us. We can contribute to the Great King’s path to immortality.”

Wu Yuan stared at him. River Beavers and the Dragon Palace? That’s like a garden snake claiming a feud with a dragon. The two worlds barely touch.

Wait. If you were Sea Otters, maybe I’d buy it. But River Beavers?

Still, he watched Little Yellow happily wrestling with the beaver pup in the corner. And the offer of cultivation manuals was tempting. He lacked fundamental knowledge.

But trusting a stranger with a “Dragon Palace” grudge was risky.

Wu Yuan decided to consult his cheat. He mentally nudged the [Karma Pearl].

Hey, treasure. Give me the scoop.

To his surprise, the pearl reacted. A flickering white light pulsed within his mind.

Wu Yuan immediately poured Demon Power into it. Nothing. The light dimmed.

Panic set in. He tried Spiritual Qi. Then Lunar Essence.

The pearl flickered, transmitting a fragmented thought: Spirit Gathering… Creation Power…

Wu Yuan instantly activated his [Spirit Gathering] talent.

The ambient Qi in the cave swirled, condensing into silver Lunar Essence. But this time, under the pressure of his new bloodline, a tiny, microscopic speck of gold emerged from the silver.

Emperor’s Flow Essence?!

Wu Yuan’s heart stopped. He focused on the gold speck.

No. It wasn’t the pure Emperor’s Flow. It was Lunar Essence infused with a trace of Creation Power.

“Close, but not quite,” he thought, a pang of disappointment hitting him. “It must be a residue from the essence I absorbed earlier. My Spiritual Energy has taken on a fraction of its properties.”

Still, it was enough. He fed the golden wisp into the Karma Pearl.

The white light stabilized, and green text unfurled in his mind.

[Green Intelligence: The Bibo River Beaver Clan has a karmic entanglement with the East Sea Dragon Palace. However, as long as they remain far from the East Sea, the impact is negligible.]

Wu Yuan frowned. The intel was vague—no specific rewards, no specific dangers. It was likely due to the meager amount of Creation Power he had provided.

“But at least it confirms they aren’t a walking death sentence,” Wu Yuan calculated. “The East Sea is thousands of li away. The Dragon Palace won’t be knocking on my door anytime soon.”